The long-lasting anxiety that comes with having a drug addicted parent

Growing up with a drug addicted parent is isolating, and what I still find surprising is that it feels like no one talks about it. Of the 105,780 people receiving treatment for substance misuse during 2011-2012 in the UK over 50 percent were parents.Yet even today I feel like I’m alone in having a parent who is physically present but not mentally.

With my dad what started off as casual opium taking with an employee turned into addiction. Iran suffers from the second most severe opium addiction rates in the world, so it’s not massively surprising that his Iranian employee was using. They would sit in the flat above the pizza shop my dad owned and smoke opium, speaking in their mother tongue, reminiscing about memories of their life past in Iran, until there was no turning back and he was addicted. When seeking help, my dad’s doctor prescribed him methadone – a bright green liquid he would pick up from the pharmacy every morning, and now subutex, a white pill.

I always remember how at seven years old I was looking for a friend who had a dad like mine, a dad who slept all day and night, contributed little to the family, and had to go to the pharmacy every morning to pick up his drug (or as we refer to it in my house “medicine”). When my best friend in primary school said her dad slept all day I was relieved – I thought his behaviour was finally confirmed as normal – until she said he worked night shifts. It soon became apparent to me that my dad wasn’t “normal”, and I wasn’t going to be able to talk and relate to others about having an addicted parent.

When he was awake he was erratic and unpredictable – he might be extremely high and take us to Toys “R” Us to treat us, or get angry at something small and throw the coffee table across the room. As a result of his behaviour I was permanently on edge, something I wasn’t even aware of until recently. I needed to be on my guard because I could never predict what mood he would be in. I don’t remember a time when my dad wasn’t addicted to a drug, so I’m still not sure if his behaviour is part of his personality or his addiction.

***

My mum was so ashamed about his drug use that she told us to tell no one. I diligently kept this secret until I was 19, firstly because it was an embarrassing secret to tell, and secondly, because it was an awkward conversation to have with people. That said, the silence of it all made it harder; I had to think of excuses for his behaviour.

“Why does your dad not work?”

“He’s unwell,” I would say half-heartedly. Or, “he’s retired.”

Luckily, no one seemed to press further.

I thought I had a handle on it – I’m aware his addiction has nothing to do with me, and I’m also aware my family and I cannot change his ways. We supported him through his attempts to stop, but his doctor giving him the drugs readily meant that he would always go back to it.

It wasn’t until, age 19, that I spoke to someone outside of my immediate family about his addiction and realised how much it affected me mentally. I met someone, my best friend, who I felt understood what it was like to have a strange home life – or at least he was open about it. I knew he wouldn’t judge me for my dad’s addiction or gossip with other people about it later. I could trust him. But, the first time I said the words “my dad is addicted to drugs” I still burst into tears.

What comes with being the child of a drug-addicted parent is the lingering anxiety about what is to come. It’s dull in the back of my head and it means it’s rare I feel relaxed. Even today, when I haven’t been living at home for five years, I still peel the skin from the side of my nail when I’m given a moment to think – a sign of my neurosis. It feels weird to be carefree. I am always thinking my situation could suddenly change and something bad could happen.

***

When I ask my mum what my dad was like before the addiction she says he was much the same, except he worked, but I wonder if she’s forgotten over the past 20 years of addiction. At the moment he stays at home every day, watching crime documentaries and movies whilst my mum works. When she comes home he expects food to be made immediately.

He made my mum a single parent, and he became the fourth child in the family. I felt the disappointment of not having him at parent teacher days, of him not taking an interest in my life, of him not being there at my graduation. He was absent, even though he lived in the same house as my family; even though we saw him daily. I became more reliant on myself from a young age, as I got the sense that I was unimportant to him.

In a way I still feel like this; when we speak it is always at a superficial level, and I wonder whether that is because he cannot communicate properly because he is never at a right head space. I get the feeling that he is always thinking about something else. I do blame him for his addiction because I feel if he did really care about us he would at least try; he would care about how his behaviour affects us. In taking opium the first few times he made a choice, albeit one I’m sure he didn’t think would change his entire life, but a choice nonetheless. I do not see him necessarily as a victim because I am so conscious of how difficult he made our lives, and also how unapologetic he is about it.

***

When I was 21 he tried to stop taking drugs for a month. His whole demeanour changed; his voice was softer, his face less red and angry, and for the first time in my life he asked me how I was and actually cared. He listened, and seemed human. This gentler side of his personality surprised and pleased me, until I realised that although he had stopped taking subutex for that month, he instead got opium from a friend.

So, whilst we cannot change the actions of others, only support them when they try and be better, I think the silence around this issue needs to be broken. When I spoke to my mum about writing this piece she was encouraging, which surprised me. She said people need to know how their actions affect their children.

Sara Jafari is a writer, and former Flight 1000 Associate with Spread The Word. She writes short stories, and has written one novel. Sara has been published in Syrup Magazine, Tales Magazine, Flight Journal and Spread The Word. She also works as an Editorial Assistant at Harper Collins, and runs her own literary and arts magazine TOKEN Magazine. You can follow her on Twitter: @sarajafari.

3 Responses

Great article and super well done for learning to adapt without a dad in your life and for how far you’ve come without that particular network.

I have some similarishs experiences, having a dad with an alcohol addicition. Waking up and not being sure which ‘dad’ I would see today has caused a general unwillingness to trust people and a real desire for stability in all aspects of life. Learning that my family was different also made me feel isolated, and in some ways it made it harder to make friends because I never wanted to invite them round and I wasn’t able to get lifts to the cinema or other events.

I was lucky enough to have my sisters to talk to and two friends from a younger age . Yet the impact it has hand on me and my sister’s life is huge. We experienced anger, loss, disappointment and pain. We have developed anxiety and depression because of it. We had to go through the heartbreak of, and cope with the fact, that he did not love us enough to be an actual dad in our lives and to break his addiction. Obviously addictions are more complicated and people don’t always have access to the services that they need to break an addiction. But to us, as little kids, (my first memories of this were about 8 years old) we felt unloved. Why aren’t we important enough to make him care? We blamed our selves, and we were lost. That caused a lot of insecurities and a lack of confidence in us. I wasn’t able to function in social situations because I didn’t feel I was worthy of conversation, or friends, or to have a good time.

Overall me and my sisters are proud of ourselves and of our life’s. And eventhough I can now understand the reasons that drove him to his addicition and feel some sadness for what he had to deal with, I hold him responsible for the choices he made. The pain of having to parent our parents continues to affect us. Everyone should be more aware of what effect theirs choice’s will have on their childs life. I am grateful you broke the silence, as apart from my two sisters I have only spoke to one other person who has a drug addicted parent. Thank you

hi , firstly great article. it does need to be more publicly known what happens. i myself am sadly a drug addicted parent of two beautiful precious children whom i love so much .
i want to get off suboxone -a version of subutex its been 8 years iv been on that and its when i stopped using all sort of drugs and alcohol (i found out i was pregnant ) and for 15yrs before that on anything and everything available.
my kids have a reasonably good life although iv never got much money due to pot smoking (habit of 20yrs and im only 35yrs old.) i do have an anger problem , my kids don’t get physically abused unless you class a little smack on bum abuse, which i know some do .but i am rather up and down and they have been scared by my angry yelling too many times.im trying to stop . my poor kids have just gone through a family breakdown with their father and myself separating and me moving out , we have 50% shared care of our kids without any courts involved. the separation was for the best ass i was too unhappy and we fought constantly, and when not fighting the tension wss so horrible.it made me severely unwell mentally , emotionally and physically to the point i am a shadow of my former self. im slowly getting better now were apart. its very hard with the kids, i have tremendous guilt.
i hate myself,, came from a good family without any problems, my siblings are all ok no problems with great lives. why me ? i d know iv made stacks of bad choices in life and still make them with using my prescription medication in a bad way, i don’t pig out and use heaps -just half my daily dose as i share it .
i want to get off drugs , deep down inside i’m not wanting to enough though, i don’t know why , i wish i could make myself want to ….its like the only reasons i want to get clean and need only air ,food and water to live are as follows
*because my kids deserve better and i want them to have it from me
* health reasons – i’m 35yrs going on 70yrs old in my body. its destroyed, iv no energy, i’m sick,sore, disease in more ways than one _ arthritis of 3 different forms, blood clots, severe headaches, mental health problems, dental probs…etc . no job , no money and no where to get help from. i’m addicted to injecting my suboxone and there’s no detox facility that i could ever afford that can help with that, they give you suboxone to get off drug addictions….they’ve said they don’t know what they could do to help. i’m severly social phobic, no friends at all , no social network or anything…just me ,kids, and the ex partner…i don’t wanna loose my kids to welfare and it might possibly happen if they knew iv a drug problem despite my kids having a fairly decent life. there’s always enough food, always clean clothes that fit, clean kids,toys and more toys, books, tablets-ipad etc, unlimited internet,bikes…but a fucked up drug addicted mum whos got too weak of a mind, heart, soul, brain ,body and everything else….
help me god cause i cant go on like this but i cant find the power to change or want to bad enough…
please i know this post is disturbing but please try not to abuse the heck out of me, honesty is appreciated but not mean nasty abuse or name calling.

i am so sorry to hear what you are going through. I don’t even know what to say having not experienced this issue, with friends who have. all I know is that some of their parents have been able to stop. It is possible and that wil you have, it can grow.

is there a way anyone can help with your social phobia? what part of the country are you? I can direct you to some lovely people who have been through this.